


Home

by Shadowbeast123



Category: Infinity Train (Cartoon)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - High School, Child Abandonment, Friends to Lovers, Homelessness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-09
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:08:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26364682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowbeast123/pseuds/Shadowbeast123
Summary: For as long as he could remember, Simon Laurent never really had a place to call 'home'. And at this point, all he wanted to do was get through his senior year of high school in one piece...Unfortunately, this was too much to ask.
Relationships: Amelia Hughes & Simon Laurent, Hazel & Amelia Hughes, Hazel & Grace Monroe (Infinity Train), Hazel & Lucy (Infinity Train), Jesse Cosay & Lake | Mirror Tulip, Jesse Cosay & Tulip Olsen, Jesse Cosay/Lake | Mirror Tulip, Lake | Mirror Tulip & Tulip Olsen, Lucy & Grace Monroe (Infinity Train), Simon Laurent & Grace Monroe, Simon Laurent/Grace Monroe
Comments: 18
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

"You know, Simon. We could cut this if you want. Give you a fresh new look for your senior year," Grace said, playing with the ends of Simon's hair as they sat by the fire pit at her parents' vacation home.

"But then you'd have nothing to play with," Simon said, leaning back into his friend's touch as Grace ran her fingers along his scalp. A comfortable silence falling between them as they sat there in the late summer heat with just the sound of the crackling fire, and the surrounding crickets to keep them company as they looked up at the night sky through the haze of smoke. The occasional gimmer of the fireflies lighting up in the rest of the yard, and disappearing into the garden a split second later as the smell of the burning sticks calmed their senses.

"So," Grace spoke up, breaking the silence and getting Simon to look up at her. "Have you thought about what you wanted to do after we graduate? There's plenty of courses on robotics and engineering at the school my parents are making me go to. If you want, I can have my dad pull a few strings so we can suffer together."

"Yeah, but then I'd be indebted to your father because of student loans and tuition fees," Simon said. "And I already owe him enough money from the vase incident...and the car wreck, and the food bills, and utilities-"

"Okay, I get it. I won't drag you along with me to college," Grace said, holding back a laugh as Simon relaxed against her patio chair. "But seriously though, you need to start thinking about these kinds of things. I don't want you turning into one of those guys who still acts like they're in high school when they're thirty."

"Well, the _community_ college in town offers courses in engineering too," Simon said to her. "I can take classes there, and not be millions in debt by the time my four years are up."

"But isn't Ms. Hughes one of the professors at the community college?"

"Yes. But if I play my cards right, I might be able to avoid running into her outside of the school. Unlike now," he said, feeling the once comfortable atmosphere turn sour at the thought of graduating high school, and being surrounded by his fellow peers and their families when he knew he was going to be all alone. "A better question is whether or not Samantha's going to be able to make it."

"Well, do you want her to come?" Grace asked, seeing her friend's eyes harden for a split second before he closed them, and let out a sigh.

"Not really," he said, leaning away from her touch this time as he turned to look at her. "I mean...I know she's my mom and all. But...She's already missed out on just about everything else in my life. I'd hate to drag her away from 'work' just so she can sit in the bleachers, and wait for them to give me a piece of paper saying that I never have to come back again."

"So why are you even asking yourself this question?"

"Because as her son, I'm kind obligated to do so," he said, reaching into the pocket on his shorts, and tying his hair back with a hair elastic. "I can't just _not_ give her the invite. She'll hold it over my head for the rest of my life, and her friends will just call me an ungrateful bitch even though they know what she's like."

"And since when did you care about what anyone else has to say about you?"

"Since I was like...ten, eleven years old," he said with a casual shrug. "Some point before the court system gave up on removing me from her custody since she kept finding new ways to take me back from my foster homes."

"Speaking of 'homes'," Grace said. "Did you manage to find a place yet?"

"Grace, I think you probably already know the answer to that by now," Simon said, swatting at his neck when he felt a mosquito land on him.

"And you're sure you don't want to move in with me and my parents?" she asked. "Because we have the spare room, and you're over at the house all the time. You might as well live there for a year so you have an actual bed for once and not just a pile of sleeping bags."

"I appreciate the offer, Grace. But I really shouldn't have to point out to you that neither of your parents like me very much," he said, hearing her let out a sigh as he got up from the concrete floor of the patio, and took a seat on the chair next to hers. "I mean, if they did. You wouldn't have had to sneak me in through the back gate to hang out with you."

"Still, it's better than living out of your car, like you've been doing for the last two years," she said, hearing him let out a reluctant sigh as she got up from her chair, and walked up behind him again. Running her nails down his back, and feeling him tense at the touch as she pressed his palms to the warmth of his skin that came through his shirt, and moved her hands back up to his shoulders. "Do you really think I'm not going to know when you're trying to hide that you're back's been hurting you because of it?"

"I can deal with it," Simon said, almost letting out a disappointed whine as Grace placed a hand on his each of his shoulders, and just kept them there even though his body was practically begging her to continue rubbing his back. The comfortable silence coming back once again as he leaned back into the chair, and felt her move her hands off his shoulders to hug him from behind. "I've been dealing with it since sophomore year."

"I know. That's why I worry," she said, resting her chin on his head as they stayed there for a few minutes; Grace's eyes locked on the stars in the sky while Simon's stared into the still smoldering flames from earlier in the evening. Taking in what was left of the summer night before they were forced to get ready to go back to school before Simon spoke up again.

"Hey Grace," he said, moving Grace's arms off of him, and turning around in his chair to look her in the eye. "There's kind of something else I need to talk to you about."

"Sure, what is it?" she asked.

"Well...It's just-"

**_BOOOM!_ **

"Oh, come on!" he yelled, jumping over the chair as he and Grace rushed through the garden to try and beat the storm. Grace pushing open the back door to the house, and rushing them both inside just as the rain hit; only for Simon to still slip on the tile of the kitchen, and land hard on his butt as she shut the door. Making Grace crack up laughing as he picked himself up.

"Are-Are you okay?" she asked, letting out a snort as Simon felt his face heat up out of embarrassment.

"I'll be fine," he said, dusting off the back of his pants as Grace calmed herself down so she could talk.

"Oh, I can't believe you still managed to do that," she said, wiping away a tear from her face before she looked back to him. "So, what was it you wanted to talk about?"

"Oh, uh...Well, you see-"

"Grace?" Mrs. Monroe called, making Simon bite back an annoyed groan as his friend's mom came into the kitchen. "Who are-Oh, it's you."

"Nice to see you again, Mrs. Monroe," Simon said, trying his best not to return the look of distain that came from Grace's mother as he fixed his clothes so he was somewhat presentable.

"Grace, honey," Mrs. Monroe said, turning her attention to her daughter as Grace got a drink from the fridge. "When your father and I allowed you to bring one of your friends along for the trip, I assumed we would be housing someone a little more...feminine. You know we can't have his _kind_ putzing around the house when we have _other_ guests coming tomorrow."

"I'm literally right here," Simon said, feeling the older woman jam a finger against his lips with a sharp 'shh'.

"Simon, the adults are talking," she said, not seeing the look of offense that went across the blonde teen's face, or the anger that flashed in his eyes as he clenched his jaw, and brought his hand up to move her hand off his mouth.

"Mom, come on. You can't seriously be suggesting throwing Simon out into this," Grace said, pointing out at the storm as a drop of rain dripped down the glass.

"Well, he's certainly not staying here," her mom stated as Simon rolled his eyes and started reaching his hand out for the door. "What would the neighbors think if they caught wind that we took some homeless street rat on vacation with us?"

"Mom!" Grace scolded, only bringing her attention back to her friend when she heard the door open, and felt the wind brush against her bare legs and arms as Simon went to go outside. "Simon."

"It's alright, Grace," he said, the wind blowing the rain drops onto his clothes and skin as he turned back to look at her mother. "And I'm sorry for intruding on your vacation, Mrs. Monroe. It won't happen again."

"Simon," Grace said, trying to get him to stay since she knew he didn't have anywhere else to go, and she didn't want him walking back to his car in the storm.

"I'll see you when you get back into town," Simon said, walking out into the storm as Grace just stood there trying to figure out what to say to get him to stay at the house instead before her mom shut the door behind him.

"I can't believe you," she said, storming past her mom, and going up the stairs to go to her room. Spotting Simon through the second floor window as he was passing through the gate, and watching sullenly as he got into his car and sped off into the night as her dad came out of his room.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, getting Grace to turn to look at him.

"Everything's fine," she said, pushing past him, and slamming the door to her room.


	2. Chapter 2

_**-Two Days Later-** _

**_Bzzz...Bzzz...Bzzz_ **

"Hey, Grace. What's up?" Simon asked, trying his best to stifle a yawn as he answered his phone.

"It's about time you picked up. I've been calling you for days," Grace said as he brought his hand up to rub his eyes. "Where have you been?"

"I've been busy," he said, stretching his arms above his head, and staring up at the ceiling of his car. "Work tends to get a little crazy during the end of summer when you and half of your coworkers have to go back to school."

"You still could have called me back when you had a free moment," she said as he sat up, and took his phone away from his ear to check the time. "You know how I feel about you going radio silent."

"I know, Grace," he said, popping open the trunk, and slipping on his sandals to stretch his legs out. "So, how's your vacation going?"

"Depends on your definition of the word 'vacation'. Because once again, my parents have been using the trip as a means to go to business meetings rather than spend time with me," she complained as he stretched, and decided to use the opportunity of being up and about to relieve himself in a nearby bush. "And don't even get me started on how they act when I confront them on this."

"Well, I'd offer to come back up and spend the day with you. But I have work later, and I can't really afford too many vacation days this close to the beginning of school," he said, reaching into the back pocket on his pants for his hand sanitizer once he had finished doing his business, and walking back towards his car.

"What's the job this time?" she asked.

"Have to head over to the abandoned mall. Clean up after the squatters, and get it ready for any potential buyers," he said, getting back into the car, and slamming his palm against the back window to kill a mosquito that had made its way in.

"Wait, that place is still standing?" Grace asked. "I could've sworn they scheduled it for demolition."

"Oh no, you're thinking of the old church where they were holding the after school programs up until last year," he said as he readjusted the mosquito netting at the opening of his trunk, and wiped the bug guts off on his pantleg. "Mall's still up for grabs as far as I know."

"Any idea on what they're going to do with it?" Grace asked.

"Well, I've heard a few rumors around town that a couple of people were offering to turn it into a food court with a giant indoor playground. But as far as I know, that part's just speculation. If anything, the city's probably just going to buy it back and knock it down to put up another car dealership or something," Simon said, grabbing a wooden block he had stolen from a previous job site, and whipping out his swiss army knife to start whittling away at the material as he held his phone between his ear and shoulder, and felt the atmosphere in his car turn tense with in the following silence, because he knew neither he nor Grace wanted to confront the real elephant in the 'room', so to speak.

"So," Grace said, hoping to keep the conversation going as Simon carved at the wooden block on his lap. "How's the book coming along?"

"It's going great. Managed to make it up to chapter four during my lunch break yesterday," he said, switching his phone to his other ear, and brushing the wood shavings off his legs.

"Only chapter four?" she asked.

"I like to edit things as I write," he said, taking his phone away from his ear again to check the time again, and quickly sniffing the neckline on his tank top before he recoiled at the smell emanating from his clothes before he brought his phone back up to talk to her again. "Hey, listen. I'm going to have to call you back later. Have a few errands to run before work."

"Oh..." she said. "Alright, I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah...Later," he said, taking his phone away from his ear again to hang up before he heard Grace call out to him.

"Simon!"

"Yeah?"

"Before I go...There's a spare key to my house hidden under the planter on the porch. You can use it later if you need a shower and an actual bed for once."

"Thank you," he said, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. "I'm probably going to be needing it later."

"So...Facetime me after you get a shower?" she asked.

"Sure," he said. "Hey, since I still have you. Do you want to see a movie at some point after you get back from your vacation? Before we have to go back to school?"

"Depends...Are we actually going to go to the movies? Or are we just going to try and marathon the entire MCU franchise in my den?"

"I actually mean the movies this time," he said, letting out a slight chuckle as he watched the sky turn from a cool grey to the early morning orange with the rising sun. "My treat."

"I'd like that," she said, her tone warm and inviting as Simon felt his face grow hot. "Just let me check my schedule, and I'll let you know."

"Great," he said. "I'll see you when you get back."

"Okay...Bye."

"Bye."

Hanging up on his friend, Simon sighed, and buried his face into his hands. Trying to stave off the wave of regret that was starting to come over him at the fact that he had just asked his best friend out on a date, knowing she was likely going to laugh in his face the second he told her about his ever growing crush on her.

"Way to go, Laurent. You're one step closer to making an ass of yourself come September," he grumbled, taking his hands away from his face, and realizing he still had the blade out on his knife before he sheepishly put it away. "And half a second away from taking out an eye."

Cleaning up his wood shavings from his sleeping bag, Simon stepped out of his car again, and brushed them off into the mulch surrounding the bushes. Putting the knife and wooden block away in the back pocket of the passenger's seat, and rolling up his sleeping bags to put them away before he heard a low growl from behind him and froze. Feeling a cold sweat start to form on his face as his hands started to shake, and he slowly turned; half expecting to see the stray Doberman Pinscher that would always try to take a bite out of him whenever he parked near the convenience store, only to see that there was nothing behind him, nor anything else in the parking lot aside from the only employee in the store.

"Okay...That was-" he started, only to hear the same growling sound again, and quickly realize it was coming from under his car before he looked down and saw two little feet sticking out from under his rear bumper. "Oh god!"

Getting down on the ground to make sure he didn't kill a smaller human, Simon looked under the car, and felt his stomach sink when he saw a little girl with olive skin and matted blonde hair looking back at him. Brown eyes blinking at him curiously as he tried to check the undercarriage to make sure there wasn't any blood or any other indicators that he had run over the child before she spoke up.

"Who are you?"

"Oh thank goodness," he breathed, letting out a sigh of relief now that he knew that the child was still alive. "What are you doing under my car?"

"Tuba says it's safe under here," she said, scooting around, and showing him a toy gorilla.

"Well clearly, Tuba doesn't make the best decisions," he said, getting up and pulling the girl out from under his car by her ankles before he picked her up by the back of her sweater vest, and set her down on the bumper. Seeing that her knees, hands, and the bottoms of her feet were either scraped up or burnt from being exposed to the hot pavement for so long. "What's your name?"

"I'm not telling you," she said, holding Tuba to her chest. "Tuba says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

"Tuba's also told you it was good idea to hide under a two ton machine. You really think she has your best interests in mind?" he asked, seeing the child get an offended look on her face as she hugged the gorilla to her chest. "Where's your mom?"

"Inside," the child said, making Simon glance around the parking lot again to double check if there were any other cars he might have missed on his initial scan before he peeked through the front windows of the store to check for any other customers, only to still see the night-shift employee falling asleep at the register. "She told me to wait out here with Tuba."

"How long ago was this?" he asked.

"A really long time," she said. "The man inside had to turn the page in his calendar three times."

"Has the man been giving you anything to eat?" he asked, noticing that the girl was bit on the skinnier side, and trying his best not to let her pick up on the rage that was beginning to bubble in his chest at the fact that she had been outside wandering the parking lot for an entire summer, and no one bothered to call the authorities.

"Nope. He usually tends to throw stuff at me until I leave," she said, holding up Tuba again. "And Tuba says we should never eat food off the ground."

"Alright, wait here," he said, grabbing his wallet out of the back, and making his way up to the store to get her something to eat as he took his phone out of his pocket, and tried his luck with one of his former foster parents. 

"Megan?" he asked, putting his wallet into his pocket. "It's Simon...Listen, I need you to do me a huge favor."

* * *

_**-Meanwhile-** _

"I'm telling you, Grace. You're wasting your time with this boy," Mrs. Monroe said, stabbing a piece of pineapple with her fork as she and Grace sat in the dining room after her daughter had gotten off the phone with Simon. "You should consider spending time with someone whose a bit more worth your while. Someone who actually lives in a house as opposed to their car."

"Well, I would. But a lot of my classmates are actually afraid of me, and think I'm a rich snob because of _your_ behavior," Grace said, cutting into her waffles. "Plus, I'm not just going to up and abandon one of my closest friends because of a class difference. You'd like him once you got to know him."

"Grace, sweetheart. You've been friends with him since the fifth grade, I think I've gotten to know him plenty."

"Mom, the only thing you've ever said to him in the seven years I've known him are different variations of "You're not welcome here"," Grace said to her. "And that was before Samantha left."

Well, it's not my fault we have a reputation to uphold," Mrs. Monroe said with a scoff as Grace bit down on her food. "People like him have been tearing us down and silencing us for centuries. I will not have the 'Monroe' family name be tarnished all because you think you can salvage what's left of a broken man."

"I'm not trying to 'salvage' anything. I'm just trying to make sure he doesn't work himself into an early grave," Grace said. "The world's not what it used to be back when you and dad were my age."

"I know that, Grace. But I'm just trying to get you to think about your future here," her mom said. "Five years from now, you'll be in one of the states top Performing Arts schools, and getting your Masters in Business and Education. I cannot have you throwing that all away over a leech."

"Mom," Grace said. "We've talked about you calling him that."

"That doesn't make it any less true," her mother said, popping a piece of pineapple into her mouth, and chewing on it quietly as Grace took a sip from her orange juice and tried not to look visibly annoyed with her as she spoke up again. "When people like him look in our direction, all they see are dollar signs. They don't care about how you feel, or what you want to do with your life. The sooner you can realize that, the sooner you can focus on what's really important. And that's making sure that our bloodline continues without being tainted."

"Good morning girls," Mr. Monroe said, coming into the dining room to greet his wife and daughter as Grace stood up. "Is something wrong?"

"Everything's fine, dear," Mrs. Monroe said, taking a sip from her coffee. "I was just having a conversation with Grace on why we don't allow _certain people_ into the house."

"I see," he said, waiting until Grace had left the room before he turned back to his wife. "And just how many times are you and I going to have the conversation of why we don't push these _certain people_ away?"

"Paul, you've dealt with his kind before. You know exactly what he is," Mrs. Monroe said to him.

"Yeah, a child who was forced to face the harsh realities of the real world at too young of an age," Paul said, sitting down across from her as one of the servants cleared away Grace's plate from the table, and gave him his breakfast.

"He's a parasitic leech who sleeps out of his car and pulls the 'homeless' card for sympathy," his wife said. "I am not going to allow Grace to continue enabling him just because they have a 'history'. Especially after he manipulated her into spray painting a cult symbol onto a store window, and smashing Mr. Derek's car with a Louisville slugger."

"And I'm not going to sit by, and continue enabling your behavior towards him," Paul said as he picked up his coffee. "Janine, I understand you have your prejudices towards Simon's particular breed, especially when it pertains to his skin color. But forcing Grace to leave him after almost eight years of friendship is not going to solve the problem."

"Paul, you've seen the way that pest looks at her," Janine said, poking her fork into a strawberry.

"Yeah, I know. I've also seen Grace look at him the same way a few times," he said. "But that's not the point."

"Well, what is the point here, Paul? Because the way I look at it, Grace is going to throw her life away over that boy."

"Yeah, I know. But it'll be because you drove her to it," Paul said to her as he set his cup down, and rubbed the bridge of his nose to try and ward off the impending migraine that was sure to come from having this conversation with her for the umpteenth time.

"Paul, it's not my fault that Grace makes poor decisions now. It won't be my fault when she makes them in the future. I just want her to have the best in life."

"I know, Janine. I want that for her too. But the way you're going about it is only going to end in disaster," Paul said as he picked up his coffee mug again, and took a sip from the bitter liquid. "You're more than likely going to drive Grace into becoming a teenage parent, rather than a successful dance instructor if you keep up this type of behavior. We're better off playing the long game in hopes their friendship will fizzle out once Grace goes off to college."

"But what if it doesn't?" Janine questioned.

"Then I suggest you learn how to cope with the fact that our daughter has a better moral compass than you," he said as he took a bite of his toast.


	3. Chapter 3

_**-Later That Evening-** _

"Wait, so you mean to tell me that this girl was stuck wandering the parking lot at the convenience store, for the entire summer...and nobody bothered to call the authorities?" Grace said, spitting out her toothpaste into the sink as she video chatted with Simon on her phone. "I thought the guy that ran the store would've done something."

"Oh, trust me. He did," Simon said, drying his hair off with a towel before wrapping it around his waist, and stepping out of the shower. "It's just that instead of calling the authorities, he threw stuff at her until she got the message that she wasn't allowed back. I'm honestly surprised the kid didn't get kidnapped or something."

"Did you call CPS?"

"Right after I dropped her off at the hospital so Megan could check her out, and make sure she was okay," he said, putting his toothbrush in his mouth as she wiped her chin off with the back of her hand. "Hopefully they can find someone in her family to take her in so she doesn't go into the system like me."

"Speaking of families," Grace opened, almost making him tense up since he knew what was coming next. "Have you talked to your dad or his side of family since Samantha's been gone? Because I bumped into your grandparents when I went to the pier by the beach, and they said they haven't heard from you in a while."

"Considering my last encounter with them resulted in Samantha stealing a very great-grandmother's jewelry set. I think it's safe to say that I'm not exactly a favorite amongst that side of the family," he said, almost having to force the words out since talking about either one of his parents was usually a sore subject to him, and left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. But he knew he couldn't exactly avoid talking about it when he was with Grace, lest her father send him back to therapy, and give him yet another reason to be owing him money.

"How much was the set worth?" Grace asked.

"About three to five thousand, if you knew who to sell them to, and had a good sales pitch," he said, spitting out the toothpaste from his mouth. "But my banishment from that side of the family had more to do with the fact that the jewels were family heirlooms that were passed down through generations up until that point. Not the money."

"So...When was the last time you actually talked to your dad's family?"

"Last week. I had lunch with one of my aunts who was kind enough to invite me to my cousin's wedding in December," he said, pulling his boxers on under the towel, and taking it off his waist to dry the back of his neck off.

"You going to go?" she asked.

"Probably. Since one of my jobs is working at a catering company," he said, knowing that it would be a good idea to reconnect with his father's family at some point. Even if it was only in the hopes of appeasing Grace's concerns about him living out of his car. "But enough talking about me. How was your day?"

"Aside from my walk to the beach, and talk with your grandparents. It was uneventful, as usual," Grace said with a sigh as she took her phone with her back into her room, and flung herself onto her bed. "Sometimes, I wish I had your life."

"Oh, do you now?" he asked, pulling on a pair of pajama pants, and packing his stuff into his toiletry bag.

"Yeah. Being waited on hand and foot by servants and butlers all day gets kind of boring," she said, grabbing one of her pillows and tucking it under her chest as she propped herself up onto her elbows. "I want to be able to get a job like you. Meet new people. Not be seen as a snobby little rich girl."

"Well, in all fairness. I'd rather you be seen as a 'snobby little rich girl', than have someone call you 'loose' behind your back, and have that kind of rumor make it's way back to your parents," Simon said, almost anticipating the smack to the shoulder he would've gotten as Grace gave him a look of mock offense. "And if you want to get a job, just go for it. I mean, if you can put up with your parents, more specifically your mother, and not get into a screaming match with them. I think you can handle a customer service job or something."

"Easy for you to say. My mom's going to throw a fit when she finds out her daughter's choosing minimum wage over endless funds from her father's credit card," Grace said as he flopped onto the bed in the guest room. "Besides, I don't exactly have much to offer in any sort of job field. Aside from people skills."

"Grace, if Samantha's taught me anything useful. It's that people skills make up for almost ninety percent most jobs. You're more than halfway there already," he said, rolling onto his stomach. "Plus, think about it in a 'what if' scenario. What are you going to do if something happens that your parents lose their money? Where are you going to live? How're you going to survive?"

"Well, I could always live out of my car like you do," Grace teased. "Nothing but me and the open road with just a bag of clothes in the back."

"Yeah, and little to no access to things like showers, warm food, and an honest to goodness bed," he said, pushing his hair off his face, and grabbing one of the pillows by his head to rest his chin on. "And don't get me started on how other people treat you because of the fact that you're homeless."

"Then why do you do it?"

"Because I'd rather spend a couple bucks on car parts, than hundreds on rent for an apartment I'm not going to even live out of because I work so much just to stay above the poverty line," he said. "Besides, Samantha owes a lot of people money for other failed scams and faulty products in the past. I'd rather not stay in one spot for too long."

"Even at the expense of your own health?" Grace asked, seeing her friend roll his eyes. "Because I get that you like to be mobile almost twenty-four seven. But I really shouldn't have to bring up all the times that you almost died from things like hypothermia and pneumonia from living out of your rust bucket."

"It's not a rust bucket. I keep that thing running like new."

"Simon, you can barely make out what kind of car it is anymore. I really shouldn't have to remind you of all the times it almost got towed...with you still in it."

"I would rather you didn't," he said, bringing his hand up to rub a spot on his forehead where a huge bruise had resided the last time his car got towed while he was sleeping, and he wound up falling out of the trunk. "But it still _works_ , and that's fine by me."

"It's normally fifty-fifty toss up on whether or not the battery on that thing still works."

"Okay, so my car might not work _that_ well. But it gets me places?"

"Yeah, an early grave, if the incident back in April was anything to go by," she said as he rolled his eyes again at the mention of the incident from earlier in the year where his car had broken down in the middle of the intersection, and nearly caused a pile up. "Seriously, why don't you just trade it in? You know my dad can get you a new one. At least something that's not from the sixties."

"Seventies. And good luck with that."

"Si, I'm being serious," she said.

"Grace, come on. You know I hate asking your dad for money," he said. "Besides, if I try to trade that thing in for a newer model, I'm going to be on the streets with at least fifty bucks to my name. And you do not want to be the homeless guy with a fifty in his pocket. Trust me."

"Well, my dad and I can get you a cargo van or something. Something with a little more space in the back so you can stretch out," Grace offered.

"Hmm, let me think of a good answer for that," he said, rubbing at his stubble in thought before taking his hand off his face, and getting a look like he had just gotten an idea. "Oh here's one. No."

"Simon, come on. We both know that car is heading for the scrapyard."

"I also know that if any of the parents see an unmarked and windowless van anywhere near the school, I'm going to get arrested," he said.

"Then renovate it."

"And do what? Block Andy's driveway, and leave myself without a ride to school?" he asked, hearing her let out a frustrated sigh.

"Fine," she relented. "If you're really that adamant on not living out of a van. Then why don't you move in with your grandparents? Or one of your other relatives on your dad's side of the family? Because I'm pretty sure after almost eight years, they'd be over the fact that your mom stole the family jewels."

"Ha! Keep dreaming. The first words out of Debra's mouth when I went to have lunch with her were "Have you heard from Samantha at all recently?". Which quickly segued into her interrogating me in the middle of the restaurant."

"Let me guess, she also acted like she was doing you a huge favor by inviting you to the wedding?" Grace said.

"Along with her usual spiel about how I'm never going to amount to anything, and be homeless the rest of my life," he said, trying to hold back a yawn that did not go unnoticed by the dark skinned girl on his screen. "Not like I have all of society telling me that now."

"Getting tired?" she asked.

"You have no idea how long it's been since I've been in an actual bed," he said, trying to rub the fatigue from his eyes so he wouldn't fall asleep on her mid-call. "So, did you manage to find out anything about our trip to the movies?"

"Yeah, I think the Saturday right before the first day of school is free," she said, seeing him hold back another yawn. "But we can talk about that later, once you've gotten some sleep."

"No, no. Really, I'm fine. I..." he trailed, head dropping onto the pillow for a split second before he jolted back awake with a snort. "I'm not tired."

"Yes, you are. I can see it on your face," she said as he sat up to try and keep himself awake; only for his head to droop forward, and a soft snore to leave his lips before he realized he had dozed off, and jolted awake again. 

"But I don't want to...Go to bed yet," he said, struggling not to pass out from exhaustion as a fond smile grew across Grace's face.

"Do you want me to start singing you the lullaby my nanny sung to me when I was little?"

"No," he said, laying back down against the pillows. "I'm not a child. Besides, lullabies don't work on me."

"Is that a challenge?" she teased, seeing him give her a challenging look as he rubbed at his eyes.

"I dare you to try and put me to sleep with a lullaby," he said, stretching his arms above his head as she chuckled and started humming the lullaby.

_"Don't be a worry baby..."_

* * *

_**-Meanwhile-** _

"No need to hurry baby. When you're with me..." Amelia hummed, shaking her head roughly, and letting out a disgruntled noise at the fact that she had once again gotten her former housemate's lullaby stuck in her head. Taking a sip of her drink as she sat on her porch swing, and letting a blissful sigh pass her lips when she heard silence from the house...Only for the peace to last all of ten seconds, because between her job, and her housemate having taken in so many children before her untimely demise; Amelia had grown accustomed to constant noise rather than peaceful silence.

"Tuba," she said, using her housemate's old nickname as she looked up at the ceiling of her porch. "If you and Alrick are up there, you guys better not be laughing at me."

Feeling a cool breeze blow past her in response, Amelia sighed, and settled back onto her swing; the chains squeaking slightly as the seat moved while she took another sip of her drink and looked up at the night sky. Letting her mind wander, and bring her back to the days that she and Alrick would take a drive out to a small cliff that overlooked the city, and star gaze without the worry for light pollution before she was rudely pulled back into reality by her cellphone going off on the table beside her.

"Amelia Hughes," she said, taking another sip of her drink as she held the phone to her ear. "Speak, and you may be answered."

"Hi, Ms. Hughes. My name is Megan Olsen, I'm a nurse at Infinity General Hospital," a woman spoke on the other end of the phone. "I'm calling because your granddaughter, Hazel Smith, was brought in earlier today, and you were listed as her emergency contact. We need you to come in as soon as you can to claim her before we call Child Protective Services."

Feeling a tense silence fall between her and the phone, Amelia froze, and subconsciously tightened her fingers around her phone; a newfound surge of adrenaline and outrage coursing through her veins as she started begging whatever god or deity ruled the universe that Megan was kidding. Because the last time she checked, she didn't have a granddaughter, and the only person capable of giving her any sort of grandchild was supposed to be back in Britain with Alrick's family.

"Ms. Hughes?" Megan said, pulling Amelia back out of her thoughts to see that she had gone quiet. "Are you still here?"

"I'm sorry...My what!?"


	4. Chapter 4

_**-The Next Day-** _

"Wait, you have a what now?"

"A grandchild," Amelia said, joining her next door neighbor, Susan, at her dining room table with a cup of coffee in her hands. "Of all things...I have a grandchild."

"I wasn't even aware you had kids," Susan said, going to add a spoonful of sugar to her coffee as Amelia raised an eyebrow in her direction. "At least apart from what Tuba brought home."

"That would be because my daughter and I don't exactly have much in the way of a relationship," Amelia said. "Don't get me wrong, I loved Alrick with all my heart. But I wasn't going to force myself to bond with our kid when I've never really been able to tolerate children for more than a few minutes. I can barely stand any of my students at either of my teaching jobs as it is. And they're supposed to be adults."

"When was the last time you spoke to your daughter?" Susan asked.

"About ten years ago, when I made a trip back to Britain for a friend's third wedding," Amelia said, pausing to take another sip from her coffee. "But apart from basic pleasantries after I got to my in-laws home, we didn't exactly 'hit it off' enough for me to be interested in catching up. I had no idea she was even in the country until I got the call last night. And I'm still trying to figure out how she knew my phone number to put me down as the emergency contact without my knowledge or consent."

"Well, did you use your phone number as a log in confirmation on any of your social media accounts?"

"No. I'd need to use social media to do that," she said, taking another sip from her coffee. "And just my luck, I don't have any way of contacting her. So now I have to scramble to find her a good home before school starts back up at the high school at the end of the month."

"Wait, you aren't going to keep her?" Susan asked, hearing the older woman scoff.

"Oh, heavens no. I just told you, I hate children," Amelia stated with a dismissive wave of her hand. Keeping her tone casual, like she was discussing the weather rather than the custody of her own family. "The only reason I let Tuba take in so many was because she normally made sure to have them all in bed by the time I got home from my job at the university. I'm not going to let another one of those snots into my house after I just got finished getting rid of the toys from the other ones."

"Amelia, she's your granddaughter."

"She's a nuisance," Amelia said, not really paying much attention to the younger woman's bubbling outrage as she stood to get another cup of coffee. "I'm not going to adjust my life to revolve around her. As far as I see it, if she can last a summer in a convenience store parking lot, and accept that mother dearest doesn't want to deal with her; she can deal with dear old granny wanting nothing to do with her until she can find a loving home."

"I can't believe you're going to be this heartless," Susan said, gripping her coffee mug tightly enough that her already pale knuckles turned white against the ceramic. 

"Susan, like I've told you already. I hate children. I didn't 'change my mind' thirty years ago when I had my daughter, and I'm not going to change it now that I have a granddaughter."

"So you're just going to abandon her to the state?"

"Yes," Amelia stated bluntly, turning her back to the younger woman to get her coffee. "I don't even know why I have to explain myself to you of all people. You were the one who let her brother abandon his ten year old to the state because he couldn't quite seem to grasp the fact that maybe his son wasn't handling the divorce well."

"That was different," Susan stated with a bitter tone.

"No, it wasn't," Amelia said, seeing her neighbor cast her onyx gaze to the chair beside her in shame even though her face held a bitter expression at the mention of her nephew. "Abandonment is abandonment no matter how you look at it. The only difference with me is that I make my stance on children quite clear, and go through the proper channels to make sure that they're legally adopted into a loving home rather than being surrendered to the state, because the foster system tends to be quite flawed in a lot of cases. You and your family strung Simon along for a decade before cutting ties with him over something his mother did. And Samantha's the main reason he sleeps out of his car, she's removed him from so many foster homes."

"He was her kid."

"He was _a_ kid," Amelia corrected. "As much as I can't stand him, it wasn't exactly fair to him that your side of the family abandoned him just because Samantha couldn't keep her paws off the family jewels."

"Oh, and it's fair on Hazel that you give her up to some stranger because you refuse to be a parent?"

"I feel it's fair to give her to someone else because I'm in no position to care for a child," Amelia stated. "I have two teaching careers, and I'm up to my neck in legal paperwork from all the businesses Tuba ran to keep the lights on and food on the table for all the kids. I'm not going to take Hazel in only to have Child Protective Services show up two months later because I'm almost never home."

"Then take Hazel with you when you go to work at the college," Susan said as Amelia rolled her eyes in annoyance because the conversation was beginning to make her sound like a broken record with how many times she had repeat herself on her intolerance for children. "Because it was bad enough you abandoned your daughter. I'm not going to sit here and let you do the same thing to your granddaughter because you want to give the finger to society."

"I'm not giving the finger to anyone. I just stand firmly by my beliefs that some people aren't meant to be parents. I being one of them," Amelia said, trying to hold back an exasperated sigh as she pressed her index and middle fingers to her temple to try and ward off the impending migraine that was starting to arise the more she continued this roundabout argument.

"You are not abandoning your granddaughter," Susan said firmly.

"Susan, if you feel so strongly about this. Then you take her in," Amelia barked, getting fed up with her neighbor's insistence that she take Hazel in, and just about throwing her mug at her head when Susan let out a scoff of her own, and just about turned her nose up at the idea.

"Please, like I'll be any better. I wasn't ready for parenthood eight years ago when Christopher rescinded his rights over Simon, I'm not ready for parenthood now. I'm not taking in your granddaughter just because you refuse to own up to your past mistakes."

"Mistakes?" Amelia asked, almost having to hold back a chuckle as the chestnut haired Laurent took a sip from her coffee. "Susan, me giving my daughter up to her grandparents wasn't a 'mistake' on my end. It was one of the best decisions I could've made at that moment in time, and I stand by that. I have no regrets in doing so, and I'm under no obligation to be taking Hazel in just because she's family."

"Oh, and you want me to take over that obligation for you?"

"If you're going to get on my ass about me not taking her in, then yes. By all means, take her in and show me what the hell I missed out on in the last thirty years I've been in no contact with her mother. It'll make up for your mistakes with Simon."

"Amelia, I work another job outside of being the Home Ed. teacher at the school with you. What makes you think _I'm_ going to have the time to raise her?"

"Susan, I've seen you practically raise Simon before your brother rescinded his rights over him. And you were working two jobs then. Trust me, if either of us is going to have an easier time adjusting their life and schedules to accommodate children, it'll in no doubt be you."

"Ugh, fine," Susan sighed, knowing it would be better to take Hazel in rather than keep this argument up for the next hour. "But you owe me on this."

* * *

_**-Meanwhile-** _

"So, Simon. It's been a while since our last session," Dr. Brenner said, sitting across from Simon in his office while the blond teen in question nervously picked at his cuticles; his eyes darting around the room, and looking at anything and everything other the man across from him as he tried to think of the quickest escape route out of this room. Because being in his therapist's office was one of the last places Simon wanted to be.

"I've been...Okay," he said, forcing the last word out, because as much as he hated being here, he knew he had to do something to bide his time for the next hour and a half until his session was over. Lest his therapist begin to poke the proverbial sleeping bear, and push his buttons until he flew into a rage.

"Care to elaborate?" the therapist asked, hearing the teen let out a sigh. "Simon, we've talked about this. You can't keep just giving me half-truths."

"Well, what do you want me to do? Tell you a full on lie?"

"No. What I want you to do is start opening up, and actually talking to me," Dr. Brenner said. "You've been my patient for the better part of four years. You should know that by now."

"And yet, four years later. I'm still trying to deal with my own problems by myself, and internalizing everything because I have no right to be getting upset or angry at trivial things when other people have it worse than I do. And I live out of my car."

"And how does that make you feel?" Dr. Brenner asked, seeing Simon move his hand to his wrist to start playing with the rubber band he placed there, and slink back further into the couch. "Come on, out with it."

"Pretty shitty," he grumbled. "It...It makes me feel like I'm not being heard all that much. And when I do voice my opinion, I'm usually scoffed at and told that my opinions don't matter because I'm a kid, or because I live out of my car."

"And how do you feel when that happens?"

"Frustrated...But then I remember that you probably have to deal with a ton of other patients in that exact situation. Some probably in even worse living situations than me. So it's not my place to be feeling like that."

"Well, you got the first part of that correct. But just because the majority of my patients feel as if they're being stifled in terms of their opinions, doesn't mean that your opinions are any less valid," he said, seeing his patient sink down further into the couch to try and shrink in on himself and hide from the conversation. "When was the last time you were able to voice your opinion? Without being shut down or made to feel inferior."

"A couple years ago, right before I got arrested and got court mandated to start seeing you," he said, pulling back slightly on the rubber band, and letting it snap back against his wrist; his face twisting into a barely noticeable grimace at the stinging sensation left behind. "I got into a debate with one of my foster families about a child's cartoon show of all things, and how the relationship dynamics between some of the characters were toxic...Just about caught a belt across the face for that one."

"Ah yes. I remember that you had quite a bit of bruising by the time your first session rolled around," Dr. Brenner recalled, making Simon bring one of his hands to his neck to hide the invisible marks that once riddled his skin four years ago when he had first started seeing him. "But I also remember that you had no problems voicing your opinion back then. You seemed to hold no shame in saying that therapy was a 'load of crap', and that you were only continuing our sessions because your friend's father was paying for them."

"He still kind of is," Simon grumbled, thinking back to earlier that morning where he had desperately scheduled an appointment before work out of panic, because someone in the office had notified Paul that he had been skipping out on his sessions for the last year, and he didn't want the Monroe patriarch to be under the impression that he was falling back into old habits. "Besides, a lot's happened in the last four years. I've had a lot more people than just that specific set of fosters shooting me down and making me feel even more worthless than I already am."

"Simon," Dr. Brenner said, somewhat scolding his patient for the self-deprecation as Simon slunk down further into the couch, wishing he could just sink through the cracks already and get out of the office.

"You know it's true," he said, sitting up on the couch since his next move would've been to move to the floor, and he knew his therapist wouldn't want him doing that. "And on top of all that, it's my senior year. So I have to try and figure my life out before June."

"Ah yes, I almost forgot that you were still in high school," Dr. Brenner muttered as Simon pushed his hand through his hair to move it off his face. "Have you thought about what you wanted to do after you graduated?"

"Not really," Simon admitted, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth as he thought back to his conversation with Grace a few nights ago. "I've floated around the idea of going to college a couple of times. I mean, going that route wouldn't be all that different from what I'm doing now with juggling three jobs and school...Except I don't know what kind of field I want to go into. And even with the jobs I have now, I'm still going to be in debt until I'm well into my fifties."

"Well, have you considered joining the military? Or maybe taking a year off, and traveling the world?"

"A few times. But I've already discussed my father's issues with PTSD from his time in the military with you. And taking a year off of work and traveling the world doesn't exactly help get an apartment so I'm not living out of my car anymore."

"While that may be true. I do believe taking a year off from school and work might still be a good thing for you," Dr. Brenner advised as Simon rolled his eyes. "When was the last time you did anything with your free time? Something that didn't involve Grace, or spending the night in front of your computer screen."

"I...I don't know," he said, unable to think of any instances where he had hung out with anyone other than Grace, or really 'unplugged' himself from the internet before he gave a firm shake of his head to keep himself from getting lost in thought, and looked up to face his therapist again. "But just last week, I had lunch with one of my aunts."

"And how did that go for you?" he asked, seeing Simon hesitate.

"It...went horribly," he said, biting back the annoyed groan that wanted to intertwine itself with his tone as he grew more frustrated. "She didn't even bother to try catching up with me. All she did was interrogate me on the whereabouts of my mother, and act like she was doing me a huge favor in inviting me to cousin's wedding. And the sad part is, I can't get out of that. Because my luck, I'd get stuck doing the catering for the reception."

"And this was that aunt on your..."

"Father's side. And up until last week, I hadn't spoken to them since my parents abandoned me to the state. Because they think it's my fault my mom couldn't keep her paws off the family jewels."

"Do they do this a lot?" Dr. Brenner asked. "Blame you for what your mom did?"

"If they aren't doing that, they're going off on tangents saying that I'm going to end up just like her," he said, slinking back down into the couch with a bitter grin on his face. "And just to put the icing on the cake. My other aunt is my Home Ed. teacher this year, so there's no way I'm not going to keep getting a lecture about how I'm not going to get anywhere in life."

"Simon, have you been taking your medications for your BPD?" Dr. Brenner questioned, noticing how frustrated and angry his patient became the more he talked about his relationship with his parents.

"No," he said, trying to keep his temper in check. "I stopped taking them months ago. I don't really need them."

"And why do you feel that is?" he asked, curious as to why Simon had chosen to stop taking his medication when he knew they both remembered the teen stating that they were doing the trick in getting him to have a better handle on his emotions during a prior sessions. "Because you said so yourself during one of our prior sessions that they were working. And clearly, they were working well enough for you to skip our sessions up until today."

"I...The reason why I stopped taking them is none of your business!" Simon barked, gritting his teeth.

"Actually, it kind of is," Dr. Brenner stated as Simon started shaking. "Simon, you know the kind of effects quitting some of those medications can have on the body if your quit them all of the sudden. Now tell me. Why did you feel it was necessary to stop taking them if they had helped?"

"Because like I've mentioned numerous times already, I'm living out of my god damn car," Simon said, feeling a tear roll down his face and trying to control his breathing because he was pretty sure Dr. Brenner knew exactly what he was doing in pushing his buttons like this. "Having pill bottles hidden in the glove compartment isn't exactly a good look. Especially when people assume that the reason you're homeless is because you're a drug addict."

"And it's because of that, you felt it was best to stop the medication all together?" he asked. "Simon, we've talked about this before. You can't keep letting another person's opinion of you rule over your life when they don't know anything about you."

"I also don't need anymore virtue signaling soccer moms giving me brochures and pamphlets to rehab clinics, while looking at me like I'm the scum of the earth for a problem I don't have," he said, seeing his therapist scribble something down onto a notepad. "Besides, I made it fourteen years without those meds. I think I can handle going a few months until I'm able to get myself into a better living situation."

"Well, then I suggest you start looking for an apartment or something. Because we both know how you were before you started the medication," he said, tearing a page off his notepad. "And I would like to avoid having you revert back to that state and mindset."

"Yeah, well. When I find a place that doesn't cost me upwards to eight hundred bucks a month, I'll let you know," he said, seeing his therapist hold out the slip of paper to him, and taking it into his hands to see that he had written him new prescriptions before he got side tracked by his phone going off in his pocket; fishing it out to see that his boss was calling him, and sheepishly putting it back into his pocket once he hung up on him.

"Another work call I'm presuming?" Dr. Brenner said.

"I can't exactly take off of it," he said, hearing the older man let out a tired sigh.

"Go ahead. I'll have Genevieve call you later to schedule our next session," he said.

"Thanks Dr. Brenner," he said, practically jumping up from as he left the office.

"And don't forget to get your prescriptions filled," he called after him.


	5. Chapter 5

_**-Later that Day-** _

"Tulip, come on. You're blowing this out of proportion," Mikayla said, riding her bike ahead of her friend while Tulip pedaled along behind her trying to keep up.

"I'm not blowing anything out of proportion. I'm just saying I don't feel comfortable with Lake's secret online 'friend' moving a short bike ride away from my mom's house," Tulip said, pulling up beside her friend as they watched a new family move into their house. "Especially when she has yet to actually tell our parents about him."

"So did Lake actually introduce you to this 'Casanova15' guy? Or..."

"I'm not entirely sure if she's even seen his face," Tulip said, still watching the family like a hawk as Mikayla spotted Lake's bike up against the side of the house, and looked back over to see her and some other guy that looked to be about their age, with olive skin and dark hair coming off the moving truck with boxes in hand.

"Something tells me she has," she said, seeing Tulip's jaw drop as Lake went into the house.

"Thanks again for helping me out, Lake," Jesse said, following Lake up the stairs so they could put the boxes they were carrying into their respective rooms.

"Don't mention it. It was nice to finally meet you in person," she said, putting her box in his brother's room, and standing in the doorway to his as he put the box on his bed.

"What? Did you think you were going to run into a creepy old man or something?" he said with a slightly teasing tone as she rolled her eyes.

"Well, you were the one who suggested 'no face-cams' when we talked in the chat. I wanted to be sure I knew what I was working with," she said as they went back down the stairs to get more stuff off the truck. "And for the record, internet predators can any normal looking person. Not some grungy old guy that still lives in his mother's basement."

"And yet, you still deemed it safe enough to come over to help me move in," he said, following her back over to the truck as his dad and one of the movers were taking the couch out.

"Don't sound so confident, Casanova. I have a metal baseball bat in my backpack for a reason," she said, grabbing another box as he brought his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his face.

"I thought it was because you were a fan of baseball or something," he said, putting his shirt back down and grabbing another box that was supposed to go into his parents room.

"I am. But don't go thinking I won't use the thing to defend myself," she said, hopping down from the truck as Jesse tripped on something, and accidentally sent the box he was holding flying through the air; Lake watching in curiosity as the box tumbled down the ramp, and broke open the second it hit the driveway, spilling all sorts of...stuff...by Simon's feet just as he was coming back over to grab something. "Um..."

"Yeah, lets just try to forget that we saw all this," Jesse said, getting up from the ground as Simon quickly repacked the stuff, and thrusted it into his arms before hopping back onto the truck to get a heavy looking wardrobe, and try not to make too much eye contact with Stephan when he came back out.

"Is everything okay out here?" the older Cosay asked, seeing Simon load the wardrobe onto a dolly, and start to take it off the truck.

"Everything's fine, Mr. Cosay," he said, coming down the ramp of the moving truck as Tulip and Mikayla came over. "Hey girls."

"Yeah, hi," Tulip said, not really paying much attention to him as she turned her attention to her sister. "Lake, what are you doing here? You were supposed to be at dad's."

"And I called dad, and told him I'd be over later once I finished up here. I don't see what the big deal is," Lake said, shifting her hold on the box she was holding so it was tucked under her arm as Simon moved past them to take the closet into the house, and stopped paying attention as Tulip's dog Atticus jumped out of the basket on her bike, and tried to follow him. "Wait, Simon. Watch out for-"

_**Yipe!** _

"Atticus," she said, seeing Simon quickly move the dolly back towards him to free Atticus' paw from the wheel.

"Sorry about that, Atticus. I didn't see you-Hey!" he yelped, jerking his foot away from the corgi as he tried to nip him in the ankle as payback. "No biting!"

"Atticus," Tulip called, beckoning her dog back to her as Atticus trotted over with his hurt paw up in the air, and Simon rolled his eyes before taking the wardrobe into his hands again.

"Where do you want me to put this Mr. Cosay?"

"Just put it in the living room for now. My wife and I will find another spot for it when she gets back," Stephan said, sending him into the house just as Jesse came down the stairs.

"So uh...You're Lake's older brother, right?"

"Foster brother. But that depends on who's asking," he said, sliding the wardrobe off of the dolly so he could go back outside. "Why?"

"Oh, no. I just wanted to make sure. Because she always paints you to be some sort of homeless bum with no friends," he said, seeing Simon look offended that Lake would poke fun at him for that before a devilish smirk came across his face as she walked up to the door

"Yeah, well. This homeless bum is pretty much the only thing standing between her and juvie. So I wouldn't take what she says about me too seriously," he said, walking past Lake to go back out to the truck just as Stephan's wife and younger son came back.

"You guys are still unpacking?" Whittney asked, getting out of the car as Mikayla took a box into her hands so she wasn't just standing there empty handed.

"They only sent the one guy," Stephan said, pointing to Simon as he was coming off the truck with a dresser.

"And he doesn't even do his job right," Lake called from the house. Making Simon open his mouth to make a retort before he closed it again, and forced himself to take a breath before he said something that made the Cosays report him to his boss.

"Um...Mrs. Cosay, you do know that there's a giant wasp nest on the back of that dresser, right?" Mikayla spoke up.

"What?" both Cosays asked, turning to face the dark skinned girl to ask her to repeat what she had just said as the ramp Simon had been using to get the furniture off the truck came off, and he fell backwards onto the driveway with the weight of the dresser pinning him under the dolly as the wasp nest that Mikayla had pointed out fell off, and a swarm of angry yellow jackets descended upon the young blonde for disturbing their home. Stinging him repeatedly as he flailed his arms to try and shoo them away, and tried to push up on the dolly to free himself as Stephan finally stepped in, and freed him from the dresser while Jesse came running out of the house with his letterman's jacket to shoo away the wasps.

"Simon!" Tulip called out, ducking through the cloud of wasps with Mikayla and Atticus as Lake came running out of the house just in time to see Simon collapse onto the grass, covered in angry red welts, and wheezing.

"What happened?" she asked.

"He got attacked by a bunch of wasps," Mikayla said, seeing her friend's twin sister quickly pat down the pockets on Simon's shorts as Whittney came over.

"Is he okay?"

"No, he's allergic to wasps," Lake said, giving up on whatever she had been searching for, and turning her attention back towards Simon. "Dude, where's your epi-pen?"

"It...Truck," he breathed, letting out a choking cough as Mikayla ran to get his epi-pen out of the truck, and Tulip got her phone out to call an ambulance; absentmindedly setting Atticus down on the grass as she knelt down to make sure he stayed awake, which ended up making it harder for him to breathe, because Atticus wound up climbing up onto his chest and added a bunch of extra weight to his straining lungs.

"Atticus, get down from there. You're not helping," Lake said, taking the corgi off her former foster sibling's chest, and turning around just in time to catch the epi-pen Mikayla had thrown at her before jamming it into his thigh, and making it a little easier for him to breathe until the ambulance got there. "And you so owe me."

"I know," he said, feeling Atticus' nose bop him in the eye as he sniffed him to make sure he was okay. "Hey Atticus."

* * *

_**-Meanwhile-** _

"No, absolutely not. I'm not going to allow it," Grace's friend Rachel said as they stood in the middle of a souvenir shop while Grace looked for something to bring back to Simon.

"Ugh. You're starting to sound like my mother," she groaned, looking through a rack of novelty keychains to see if she could find one with Simon's name on it. "Tell me more about why I shouldn't go to the movies with my best friend. Without bringing up the fact that he's homeless and white."

"How about the fact that he's clearly asking you on a date, because he wants to be _more_ than friends?" Rachel said, not seeing Grace roll her eyes as she moved on from the keychains, and started looking at the snow globes.

"I still don't see how that constitutes me not being able to go with him," she said.

"Because he...he...Ugh. Grace, he's not right for you," Rachel said.

"And again, you're starting to sound like my mother," Grace said with a roll of her eyes. "Watch, next thing you know. You'll be telling me he's just friends with me for my money."

"Grace, that's pretty much the entire reason anyone like him would even look in our direction in the first place," Rachel said as Grace moved onto the hats to see if she could find something Simon would like. "I mean, are you really going to keep believing his whole sob story about how his parents abandoned him? For all you know, they could be putting words in his mouth, putting him up for the long haul so that you'd fall in love and marry him so he'd get some sort of inheritance off your parents when they die."

"Rachel...You've been watching way too many soap operas, and 'whodunit' murder mystery movies if you think that's his motive here," Grace said, looking through the T-shirts on the rack.

"Well, excuse me for picking up on the fact that your 'best friend' is a complete sociopath and narcissist, who cares for nobody but himself," Rachel said. "Or did you forget about the time he left you to get arrested by the police when you guys smashed Mr. Derek's car with that bat? Or the time he made you take the fall for when he took your dad's car for a joyride, and completely wrecked it coming back from that house party we went to that one time."

"Okay, first off. I told him to run on that first one, because his fosters would've killed him if they had to bail him out of the precinct," Grace said, turning to face the dyed copper hair of the girl behind her. "And second, he did not take my dad's car for a joyride. He was picking our drunk asses up, and crashed the car because you shrieked bloody murder and made him panic."

"He has a weapons collection in his car, Grace. He's a serial killer in the making."

"He's a history nerd who likes to collect and restore antiques as a hobby," Grace defended. "Plus, he's homeless. Do you really think he's not going to try and defend himself?"

"Grace, please. Why would he ever need to defend himself when you keep doing it for him?"

"Rachel, I wouldn't have to defend him all the time if you'd quit reading too far into everything he does," Grace said, grabbing a keyring with a paintbrush charm on it so she was able to get the heck out of the store. "For god's sake, I know my mom hates him. But at least her reasons are somewhat valid."

"I am not reading too far into him. You just refuse to see that he has mental problems."

"No, Rachel. I don't. I've known about Simon's issues for a while, and he's in therapy for them."

"Oh, he's in therapy now?" Rachel asked, clearly not believing her as Grace rolled her eyes again, and tossed the keyring onto the checkout counter as she dug through her purse to get her credit card out. "What? Does he talk about how much he wants to tie you up in his basement or something?"

"Rachel, for the last time. He lives out of his car, he does not have a basement," Grace hissed at her through gritted teeth as she paid for the keyring, and took it back from the cashier once he put it and the receipt into a bag. "And if he said something like that to his therapist, the doctor would be obligated by law to report that to the police and have him admitted to a facility or something. Which would only further your narrative of him."

"What's it going to take for you to see the signs, Grace? This Simon guy is toxic as hell."

"Probably something that proves he's actually toxic or sociopathic. Because I'm pretty sure if I noticed those things, I would've called him out on it, and sent him back to his therapist," she said, feeling her phone go off in her pocket, and fishing it out to see the text from her mom telling her she was waiting for her outside so they could go home. "I'll see you later."

Walking out of the shop before Rachel could get another word out, Grace scanned the parking lot for her mom's car, and hurried to get into it before she followed her outside; putting on her seatbelt, and absentmindedly tossing her bag into the backseat as her mom pulled out of the parking space, and drove away from the shop to go home.

"So, how are things with Rachel?" Janine asked, seeing her daughter look out the window with a bitter look on her face.

"I wouldn't know. I tried catching her up with my life, and mentioned Simon. And the next thing I knew, I was talking to you all over again," she said, turning back around to face her mom. "And you have got to stop badmouthing him to all yours and dad's friends."

"Grace, we've been over this," Janine started.

"I know, I know. It's a bad look when we constantly have 'his kind' over at the house," Grace sighed. "But you have Rachel thoroughly convinced he's a psychopath in the making. She even threw out the suggestion that his parents are putting him up for the long haul, so that I marry him, and hand over my inheritance when you and dad die."

"Ha! Please. When your father and I pass, everything's going to whatever grandchildren you give us. Just be happy we're paying for college," she stated, pulling to a stop at a red light as Grace rolled her eyes. Sitting in the passenger's seat in a near deafening silence with her arms crossed across her chest as they waited for the light to turn green again, with neither one wanting to make the move to turn on the radio to try and break up some of the rising tension before Grace spoke up again.

"Would it matter if they were Simon's?" she asked, still looking up at the light as Janine glanced over at her.

"What?"

"Your grandchildren, when I get around to having them. Would it matter if they were Simon's?"

"That depends. Do you actually _want_ to have Simon's kids when you two get older?"

"I'm talking hypotheticals here, mom. Humor me," she said, straightening up in her chair as the light changed. "Light's green, by the way."

"Well, that would have to depend on what your father thinks," Janine said, quickly glancing around to make sure no one was going to come flying through the intersection before she drove across. "As much as he tries to be understanding about your friendship with him, he's banking on you two growing apart when you go away to college. Provided he doesn't try to follow you there."

"But would them being Simon's children affect them being able to inherit money or the estate when you two pass? Yes or no?"

"It shouldn't. But again, it depends on what your father has to say about said ordeal. Because if you do decide to take things further with Simon to the point you eventually start a family with him, I won't be the only one giving you the side eye," she lectured, turning on her turn signal to merge into the turning lane beside them once there was enough of a break in the traffic. "And that's if Simon's going to stick around long enough for the reading of the wills."

"Why wouldn't he stick around?" Grace asked.

"Grace, please. If Rachel's implying that Simon's showing psychopathic tendencies, and is only trying to get with you so he can get some of our money. I wouldn't put it past her to accuse him of murdering us if we die early," Janine said, hearing her daughter snort in an attempt to hold back a laugh. "How is that funny?"

"I'm sorry. It's just...If Simon really wanted to kill you guys, I can almost guarantee it wouldn't be over money. He's already working four jobs trying to pay you and dad back for everything you guys have spent on him over the years," she said, trying to contain her laughter as she pulled her phone back out to do something other than stare out the window. "But seriously though. You really think dad would write any future grandkids out of the will if they were Simon's?"

"I don't know. You're going to have to ask him that when we get back," Janine said before she rear ended the car in front of them. "Damn it!"


End file.
